Chance
by Imitating Licentiousness
Summary: A brief story set after the end of Snow White and the Huntsman. The Huntsman has come to tell Snow White he is leaving.


**Author's Note:** I own nothing. Went and saw SWATH this evening, thoroughly enjoyed it, but felt there should have been a more definite conclusion to the love triangle. To me, it seems as though William is her childhood first love, but the Huntsman is her true love (evidenced by the fact that William's kiss did NOT wake her).

* * *

An orange glow encompassed the courtyard, flames licking up at the night sky. Ravenna's remains were steadily burning away, becoming ash that floated up into the air and seemed to dissipate somewhere between the blue-black vastness between the stars. Snow White stood on her balcony, watching. She tilted her head towards the Head of the Guard on the ground, who returned her nod, and tossed the golden mirror into the blaze.

It hissed, a tiny whistling sound escaping from it. Smoke began to rise from beneath the disc, and quickly turned black as the metal became malleable and bright. It began to bend, the sides molding like folded, stretched dough, before beginning to drip gold into the charred wood. The odor left in the air was acrid, but Snow White forced herself to watch until the mirror had melted down into nothingness. Long after the Guard had retreated to their barracks, and the townspeople had drifted back into their homes, Snow watched, until the very last embers had faded to gray, only the occasional faintest curl of smoke lingering in the air. A few of the women from the water village walked slowly around and around the pyre, purifying the ground with a circle of salt.

The sound of someone clearing their throat caused her to whirl around, hand going for the dagger she now always kept on her person. She relaxed her fingers from around the hilt of the blade upon seeing Eric standing there, hands at his sides. She hadn't heard his footsteps; years of practicing stealth in the wars had taught him the art of perfect silence.

"My Queen." He leaned forward, giving her a deeply respectful bow.

Snow shook her head. "I do not think I shall ever get used to being called that." She gave him a small smile.

He straightened himself. "You were born for that title." He looked past her down to the courtyard, the remnants of the pyre still and dingy.

"She is gone," Snow said, turning to look as well.

"Aye. Watching it burn to dust will keep the nightmares away."

Snow White shivered, and Eric gently put his hand at her back, drawing her out of the cool night air and into the warmth of her chambers. Turning, he pulled the balcony doors shut tightly.

"I pity her," Snow said quietly.

"She is not deserving of your pity, but I admire your compassion."

"Compassion or no, I am not sorry to see her gone." Snow stepped away from the doors, and into the center of the room. "But you did not come here tonight to speak of her."

"No."

She turned to face him, waiting expectantly, but having trouble meeting his eyes.

His head was down also. "I will be departing in the morning-"

"Why?" she demanded.

This time their eyes met, unwavering. Regret filled his, while anger and disbelief were stirring in hers.

"The Duke's son," he began.

"What about him?"

"William is royalty, and more importantly, he is a good man. He will treat you well and make a fine husband for you."

Snow White shook her head vehemently. "A good man he is, and a fine husband he will make, but for someone else. Not me."

"He loves you. I've seen the way he looks at you."

"I hardly know him. All I have are a few brief memories from when were children. He cannot love that which he does not know." She took two steps closer to him.

"I am a commoner, Snow White. I have nothing to offer you."

"You have everything to offer me." She took his hand in hers. "You offer protection. Courage. Kindness. Joy."

Eric stared down at her hand in his, before tightening his fingers around hers, and bringing his other hand up to cradle her one in both of his. "Yet you give me so much more. Redemption. Strength. A purpose. Where there was naught but sand before, you have brought life back into my soul. I cannot ever repay you." He took her hand and kissed it, but his restraint was unyielding, and he did no more. His hand lingered on hers, but he began to turn away. Quickly, she gripped his shoulder.

"I do not want repayment. I am Queen; I have riches enough. I wish for something else." She swallowed, and the last words came out as a whisper. "A chance to know love."

His breath stopped; he stared down at her. Snow White did not lessen her hold on him, and she met his eyes, questioning. Begging.

His restraint broke. His mouth covered hers, the fingers of his hand reaching up to tangle in her hair. The other hand gripped the small of her back, pulling her closer. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling tighter into his embrace, never breaking the kiss, only letting herself drift away, lost in some emotion she had no name for. Finally he lifted his head, but did not let her go.

"A chance to know love," he mused, stroking her jawline with his thumb.

She nodded, looking up at him, almost in wonder.

"I'm willing to take that chance." His lips covered hers once more.


End file.
